An Unfortunate Soul
by CancerTheCrab
Summary: Poor little Quentin Coldwater. (Canon divergence taking place in episode 1, during the Beast scene. W: mild description of injury, eye gore, cursing, general warning for Magicians elements.) Whump. Hurt!Quentin. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This show really messed me up. I didn't even know season two had started already, but I'm glad! FYI, Alice, Margo, and Kady are my queens; I want Quentin, Eliot, and Penny to be happy. Anyway, this is self-indulgent. I was in a whump mood and…here we are. Set during the first episode so there shouldn't be any spoilers 3

 **An Unfortunate Soul**

oO-Oo

Brakebills was relatively peaceful, as much as a magic college could be, with students milling about. Most of the lowerclassmen were in class at the moment, learning the basics of magic. In one particular room was Quentin Coldwater.

In that same room was the Beast.

Dean Fogg was on the ground with blood pumping out of his eye sockets and his hands were mangled. The students were frozen, looking forward. The teacher had been boring them to the point where they couldn't help but wonder if death was achievable by sheer boredom. They weren't expecting that their professor would end up dead and quite missed his droning voice.

Now their stinging eyes were either straining to see what was happened or looking the other way. It was understandable that they wouldn't want to see what the man would do next.

The Beast approached Quentin slowly, deliberately. "Quentin Coldwater," he said slowly, "There you are."

(There was no response, of course, he was just as frozen as everyone else. Oddly enough, that didn't include the Dean.)

A hand now gripped Quentin's fragile little neck. "Let's just nip this all in the bud." Though no one could his see lips through the insects, they would swear that he was smiling.

The time spell allowed for bodies to be moved by whatever _could_ move. The Beast enthusiastically raised the young man up into the air until his shoes couldn't touch the floor. He let go of Quentin's neck, reluctant to not be able to feel the fluttering pulse, to ignite his pointer finger. The spell created something between a laser and a small flame hovering just barely off of the thing's finger. The Beast could see the panic and horror in the magician's eyes and reveled in it. "You're a useless little thing aren't you? I bet any of your peers could've at least tried to break the spell. They wouldn't succeed, but you're just sitting there like a log! It's hilarious. Why don't you just give up? You're not very special, you know."

(If Quentin wasn't suspended in the air against his will, each word would've made him flinch bodily. But, because he couldn't, he was stuck feeling the bruises on his neck form.)

Two very important things happened when the Beast stopped speaking. One, the Dean successfully passed the watch to Alice. In the same moment, the Beast shoved his ignited finger into Quentin's right eye. A pulse of magic rocketed from the watch too quickly to measure in human terms, which meant that Quentin's screams could be heard next door, as well as the thud his body gave when he hit the ground. Thankfully for him and his left eye, Kady was able to move quickly and attacked the Beast. It didn't have quite the effect she would've liked, but Alice took over. She pushed him back into the mirror he came from and Penny took the liberty to shatter it.

oO-Oo

Someone's hands were on his shoulder. They were trying to pry his hands away from his face. _Face?_ Quentin thought distantly. Blood was making his hands wet and sticky. Pain was radiating from the spot with the most blood. It felt like someone had put a hot metal stick in his eyeball. He realized momentarily that was pretty much what happened, and with that realization came a fresh wave of all-encompassing pain. His blood was smeared across his face like the tendrils of white-hot agony that spread through him.

He hoped that death was less painful than this, and that it would take him soon.

The same person that was still trying to move his hand was now calling his name. No, they were yelling it. "Stay with me, Quentin! Don't you dare fall asleep!" The voice screamed. Their hands were warm but thankfully lacked the coat of blood that was present on his own hands. They were daintier than his own, too, which made him believe that it was probably Alice. "The professors are coming, just stay awake."

Despite his sudden exhaustion, Quentin stayed curled up on his side, his muscles coiled tight. Alice was no longer yelling, but her voice had an undertone of panic. The right side of his face pulsed with pain again and his breath caught in his throat. Her fingers found their way to his hair and she shushed him gently. She pulled his head into her lap in small, hesitant increments.

"Let me see, Quentin. Please." At this point he could barely hear her. His hands fell away from the burning mess that was his face. She must have taken it as a sign that he was going to let her examine him. He didn't care at this point. His consciousness was fading, anyway. Nothing mattered anymore.

" _Shit_." That was someone else's voice. A man. "Can they—"

"I don't think anything could." Alice said. "Quentin, are you still there?" Fingers touched his neck again. He flinched internally, but his muscles no longer cooperated. "Crap. Quentin! _No_ , any spell could push him over." She scolded someone he couldn't see. "It's going to be alright, Q."

And then he was gone.

oO-Oo

Alice, Penny, and Kady were interrogated. The teachers had arrived along with medics and had carted off Quentin and the Dean. The three students were shaken thoroughly.

"What did the Beast say, Alice?" Professor Sunderland asked her gently. "What did he say to Mr. Coldwater?"

Kady barely let the medic put the butterfly stitches on her forehead before she was recoiling from his touch. "Look, can we just leave this room?" Her patience had officially run out. They'd been waiting to leave for almost half an hour. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was Dean Fogg and Quentin writhing on the floor.

Before Sunderland could answer, Alice asked, "Is the Dean dead? And Quentin?"

"The healers are doing their best. They should recover well. Mr. Coldwater should wake up tomorrow." The professor said quickly. "Now, what did it say?"


	2. Chapter 2

**An Unfortunate Soul**

Cold. He was cold. His skull hurt, on the right side, specifically his eye socket. It throbbed with pain. There was a light pressure going around his eye and forehead, and on his hand. His other hand reached jerkily to the – he felt around – bandages going around his head.

"Hey, dumbass, don't do that," a voice, usually full of venom and was now gentle, chided him. Another pair of hands curled around his shaking fingers. "You with us, Q?"

His mouth felt like someone had shoved a mothball in it. It was annoyingly dry and—

"Moths," Quentin mumbled. Honestly, it sounded more like 'mmmuusss'. "Fuck." He was rising out of the layers of sleep, the slow realization that something terrible had happened. A beeping that he hadn't heard previously sped up.

"Shhh, Quentin," a feminine voice said, "It's gone." 'It'.

' _It.'_

The thing with moths; the thing that took his eye.

"M-…My _eye_." Quentin's eye shot open. He was in some sort of hospital room, but it was littered with magical talismans and miscellaneous objects. There was a huge window, showing him a darkening Brakebills. Alice and Penny were staring at him. He was too terrified to figure out exactly how they were looking at him. He was too busy hyperventilating and trying to get the hell out of bed. "N-no, nope, nuh-uh." He slipped the clip off of his finger and the monitor became silent for a moment before letting out continuous, quiet beep.

"Quentin, sit down." Kady's voice came out of seemingly nowhere. He spun his head around to see she was standing to his right. He hadn't seen her previously because his right eye was _missing_.

For some reason the look she gave him, with her butterfly stitches and messy curls, made him sit back down on the bed. Well, his overwhelming exhaustion also encouraged Quentin to sit, or even lay down. "Ngh," he brushed his fingers over the spot he knew his right eyeball was supposed to be. There was no lava-pain spreading across his face, just a dull ache. Despite the loss of half of his field of vision, Quentin could easily call up the memory of the Beast turning slowly toward him with disturbing clarity. He would have preferred waking up with a bit of amnesia than be able to remember Dean Fogg's screams and later, his own.

"Don't touch that," Penny said, not unkindly, "If it hurts, I'll get a nurse." Five eyes stared at him. "What? He got attacked by a fucking _moth man_. I think that calls for less asshole-ness."

That startled a laugh out of Quentin. "That's not even a word."

"Shut up, man."

oO-Oo

A nurse did in fact come by a few minutes after the olive branch was extended between the two men. (Honestly, it was a huge relief for Quentin. He didn't think he could deal with the stress of having a much more talented magician on his ass for being so clumsy right now.) The nurse was young and lanky, but he seemed like he could handle himself. His dark skin contrasted greatly to Quentin's pale complexion.

"You three can step out of the room," the nurse said, "if you want." He began to unwrap the bandages around Quentin's eye. He asked Quentin questions, like 'are you in any pain' and 'are you having any vivid nightmares about grizzly bears'. _No,_ and, _Not of grizzly bears_ , were his muttered answers.

"We'll stay," Kady said.

His heart beat faster and he tried to stare at Alice, Kady, and Penny's faces to try and gauge their reactions while also paying attention. He couldn't quite tell how bad he looked. Aside from Penny's jaw tightening minutely and Alice's eyes getting a stony look in them, their expressions didn't change.

The nurse started a friendly conversation, "My name is Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt." Matt reached behind him to grab some sort of sparkling gel and rubbed a glob of it onto a strip of skin from his eye to his cheek. The Beast must have burned him when the watch started the flow of time again. Quentin winced, but offered up his own name. "Well, Quentin, this should heal well. You won't have your eyesight back in your right eye, but other than some discoloration in your iris, you won't have any problems."

"Th—" Quentin cleared his throat, "Thanks."

"Do not get your bandages wet, and _do not_ perform any heavy-duty magic for at least three days. If the pain gets any worse or becomes sharp, come here immediately." Matthew said. "You three, help him to his room."

The check-up had taken about 45 minutes, but Quentin was already nodding off. And yet, "I can get there." He didn't want to take up their time. Alice probably had to study. Penny and Kady…probably wanted some alone time, or something. All three of them looked almost as tired as he felt.

"No offense," Kady drawled, "But you look half dead." Her bluntness was refreshing.

oO-Oo

Together, the three of them made their way to the physical dorms. Penny put his arm under Quentin's shoulder halfway to their room when the smaller man practically fell asleep while walking. After the…trauma they endured, the Dean had allowed them to rest until tomorrow. That's when the interrogations would be held.

For now, Eliot and Margo cast a glare around the quiet living room when they stumbled in, shooing all other students into their own rooms. Penny laid the near-unconscious Quentin onto the couch, and then flopped down next to the coffee table.

"Let's get drunk," suggested Penny.

oO-Oo

"I hate myself so much." Quentin mumbled.

"Same." Eliot.

"Me too." Margo

"Nothing new there." Alice.

"Yep." Penny.

Kady grunted.

Silence.

"There's a leak in here." Quentin sniffed.

"That's not physically possible," answered Alice.

Quentin said, "Oh." And curled up on the couch he lay on. "Dang."

Alice scooted over to him from where she was on the ground. She patted his hair. "Shh." They were a little drunk. But, at least she had the presence of mind to try to comfort him.

"All I have is alcohol for you, dear." Eliot mourned.

"He fell asleep."

"I have flowers and pins." He returned.

Margo perked up, her eyes widening marginally. "Let's go to the bedroom. Ooh! That sounds different when I don't want sex."

oO-Oo

Eliot had an entire collection of clips and plastic flowers. It was terrifying. There were sparkly clips, matte, plain, or decorated, and the range of flower species was incredible.

"There was a sale," was Eliot's explanation.

Penny had picked up Quentin as if he weighed nothing, again, and plunked him down on Alice's bed. Quentin sank into the mattresses and sniffled in his sleep.

Margo and Penny took the best seats, right next to Quentin. There was something irresistible about touching his hair. Alice had his head in her lap. Eliot passed everyone a clip and a flower to braid into the sleeping magician's hair. Margo discretely wiped her sleeve across Quentin's cheeks. Little tears had been trickling past his lashes, despite him being in a deep sleep.

He snuffled again; it was adorable.

Penny swiftly braided the little plastic lavender flower into Quentin's hair. He used a clip, one with a little ladybug on it, to keep the braid in place. Now that he'd done his part, he closed his arms around the smaller man and snuggled closer. (So, maybe they were drunk off their asses and couldn't feel their faces. Whatever.) His gentle snores joined Quentin's occasional sniffs.

The night went on like this.

When everyone was done, their positions had shifted. That, and Quentin had five flowers and five clips decorating his hair.

Quentin had his face pressed into Eliot's chest, and Kady was spooning him. Alice had her arms wrapped around Kady. Margo had given up her spot to spoon Eliot, and Penny draped half his body over Margo.

It wasn't a cure. Nothing could cure what they saw, and felt. They could only live with it. But, it didn't hurt to watch Quentin yawn widely and stretch like a kitten. And it was even better when he snuggled back into the sheets.

oO-Oo

 **A/N:** So, nice ending. Very fluffy. Hopefully not too OOC. I wrote the ending late into the night. And on my phone.


End file.
